by Logan Jacobs
The creature before me was roughly five foot ten, her deep jade green eyes just below mine as she stood a foot way. She was completely humanoid in form but her body was covered by a thin layer of shimmery fur that looked silky soft and resembled that of an American Ocicat and was tawny with dark gray spots. Under the fur I could make out taut muscle.
She wore a black vest that she knotted together over her small but full breasts so that her tight smooth stomach was exposed. The alluring creature’s matching mini-skirt hugged her petite hips like a second skin. She had a black, short-haired panther-looking tail that extended from her tight ass and swirled down her impossibly long legs like dripping paint.
She stood with one hand hung casually at her side and the other perched lightly on her cocked hip. Her posture was tall, and full of a quiet confidence which gave the impression that, despite her very casual countenance, she could wreak havoc at the snap of her fingers if she wanted to.
“This is he. I am him,” I stammered. Ugh, more like wreaking Havak with as smooth as that line was. I tried to recover my cool as my eyes focused on the burgundy leather collar she wore tight around her slender neck. It had a little lock on it, and I kind of wondered if she had the key somewhere on her clothes. Probably not, since the garment was way too tight to have any sort of pockets.
“This is the champion for Earth, Marc Havak,” Artemis thankfully chimed in. She was a bit on guard but not overtly so. She’d learned to calm some of her more human tendencies.
“A pleasure,” she fairly purred. “My name is Fallon, and I’ve had my eye on you.”
“Well, I have two eyes on you,” I said out loud in a voice that sounded much cooler in my head.
She chuckled and replied, “Not officially, mind you, but I’ve helped you in past matches.”
“Uhh, you did?” I racked my brain.
“I’m the admirer who gifted you with the Combat Awareness boost during your first week.”
“Oh, yes, that little thing,” I said as rakishly as I could.
“Thank you, Fallon,” Artemis said as she took very small sips of her drink. “That boost came in very handy during that match. Are you the one who invited us here tonight?”
“While I am responsible for the boost attached to the invitation,” Fallon began. Her voice was husky and tinged with little purrs everytime she said an ‘R’. Her previous relaxed posture subtly shifted. Her back straightened, and she squared her shoulders toward us. “Your invitation was sent by my boss, and as you have probably guessed, he is a boss in the big-B sense of the word.”
“I have to admit, I was pretty sure your boss wanted me dead for killing his favorite champ, ye ole Dark King.” Maybe her boss was one of the good guys if he was willing to send boosts out to us.
“My boss bet heavily against you, actually,” Fallon added and let the smile on her face fall a bit. “He doesn’t know I sent you the boost, and I’d like to keep it that way… if you want to keep receiving them, anyway.”
“I get you.” I felt a pit form in my stomach again as my nerves flooded back into my system. I drew my beer to my lips for a quick swig of Gaelic goodness and hoped that the alcohol would calm me before I made an ass out of myself. Again.
Fallon’s jade eyes darted around the room momentarily, and I swear I saw the filament fine whiskers that surrounded her lips twitch and wriggle, before she brought them to rest on me. The way she scanned the room reminded me of a canary keeping its eyes peeled for the cat, or more like a cat keeping its eyes peeled for a bigger, badder cat; her boss, even though I had no clue if he was a cat-person as well. Artemis remained silent and continued to sip her drink. I could tell she was on high alert even though outwardly you’d never guess. Her genetic modifications included multi-spectrum eyesight and acute enhanced hearing.
“So, I trust you will keep our secret safe?” Fallon asked.
“I can manage that.” I stared at her for a moment as I tried to glean any hint of a double cross or ulterior motive from within the dark, deep jewel like green of Fallon’s eyes. Try as I might, and I had been a hell of a Texas Hold’em player back in the day, I got a whole lotta nothing. “Why the cloak and dagger stuff?”
“Because--” Her eyes widened suddenly, and for the first time I noticed her prehensile tail as it curled around her right leg protectively. “Your explanation will have to wait, Marc Havak of Earth. You’ll just have to trust me.”.
Without another word, she turned and walked into the crowd in a way that was human and feline all thrown together, as her tail swished lazily back and forth behind her. Her departure was as silent as her entrance. The loud music of the club didn’t mask her. She just moved like a cat, quiet as a mouse.
“Marc,” Artemis said, “I think our host has arrived.”
I followed Artemis’ gaze and saw the group that she correctly thought were space mobsters. Four large male aliens clearly the same race as Fallon surrounded an older, graying at the tips of his fur, cat-alien in the center. The male at the center of the group looked like a tiger walking on two legs, and this tiger looked like he had been in the jungle a long ass time and knew how to survive. He wore a form fitting suit that was very similar in style to that worn on Earth but had wavy patterns in the fabric that moved and swirled.
He exuded confidence, power, and danger like a musk that everyone in the club could smell. His three goons didn’t even have to muscle anyone out of the way. The crowds parted before them like they were the Red Sea, and he was Charlton Heston. The goons were anthropomorphic cat-folk as well; two looked like bipedal leopards, long, thin, and built for speed while the third who brought up the rear was jet black, powerfully muscled and resembled a panther.
“I’d bet at least one of their thirty six lives that you are right on the money, Artemis,” I murmured to her. “Shere Khan is in the hizzie… and I’m never going to say that ever again.”
The group prowled through the crowd until they reached us.
“How you cats doin’?” I asked with a slight head nod. I had wanted to say, ‘hello, nice to meet you’ but sometimes my ego and tongue had minds of their own. A trait that drove many a high school teacher to Bailey’s enhanced coffee in the teacher’s lounge.
Shere Khan took a puff off his cigar and looked Artemis over without even acknowledging me. I could feel a low growl begin in my throat, and the hackles on my neck stood as a wave of junkyard dog aggression washed over me. The kind that could get me in deep trouble. Threaten me and I might make some quips to diffuse the situation first. Threaten someone I care about and things go red and bloody in a hurry. Just as my lips were about to peel back to reveal barred teeth, Shere Khan turned his eyes toward me and smiled from whisker to whisker as he clapped me on the shoulder like we were old drinking buddies.
“Marc Havak,” he purr-growled in a slow, deep tone. “Please, come this way. Our boss would like to speak with you.”
“Oh,” I said, sort of relieved as the tension of the last few seconds faded. “So, you’re not the boss?”
“Ha,” Shere Khan purr-laughed. “No. I most certainly am not.”
I glanced at Artemis whose eyes took in every detail of the situation. I could almost see the sparks fly in her AI made human brain as this all got etched in her memory. She gave me the slightest head nod.
“After you,” I said to Khan and his cat cohorts. The leopard twins led the way with Shere beside us and Panthro once again brought up the rear as we walked deeper into the nightclub. We headed into a small alcove near the wall where I imagined we were headed to some smoke filled, velvet covered private room, but instead we all filled into an area bordered by a circular shaped wall about shin height.
As soon as Panthro stepped inside the wall’s confines the floor underneath began to rise into the air and traveled in a slow, corkscrew motion up and around the area just outside the dancefloor. Like a private open air escalator disc.
The disc went up and up and up, so that even the dance floor seemed miniscule b
elow us, until we reached what must have been the very top floor of the club, or the ‘base’ of the upside-down pyramid almost ten stories high. As we ascended, I noticed other discs moving in the same pattern taking the wealthier patrons to private booths that lined the upper walls. Scantily clad alien waitresses ‘swam’ through the air as if it were water and delivered colorful drinks to various tables and small private rooms. Finally the disc came to rest in a little dock, and we followed our spotted and striped guides down a long hallway into the private, smoke filled, velvet lined room I’d expected earlier.
Two large cat-guards stood outside the giant dark wood door that led into the room. The lugs looked like cougars with broad shoulders and white capped mouths.
“Our guests have arrived,” Shere Khan told the guards with a wave of his hand. Paw? Pand? Haw? Whatever the hell it was looked like a giant paw, but it had an opposable thumb. The cougars reached out and grabbed the polished brass door knobs that sat waist high in the dark wood and pulled the doors open almost ceremoniously.
The back room was styled much different from the main area of the club. It was tastefully decorated in muted tones with dark wood furniture that matched the door. Plush, ornamental rugs covered a stone floor that appeared to be made from pure onyx. In the middle of the room sat a giant desk with a tall backed, maroon leather chair with its back to us. Shere Khan led us over to two comfortable looking brown suede chairs placed in front of the desk.
“Make yourselves comfortable,” he said and then stood to the right side of the desk with his back to a floor to ceiling window that had a complete view of the club below. The loud music from the dancefloor died as if it never existed the second the cougars closed the doors from the outside, and we were washed in silence.
A silence that stretched on for a long, drawn out minute, as if used on purpose to build suspense and that minute succeeded in its job. Just at the moment when it seemed as if the anticipation in the room was going to burst the leather chair spun around slowly and Artemis and I finally got a good look at the mob boss.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled so quietly that even I couldn’t hear it.
A four and half foot tall, gray-brown rat sat in the blood red chair adorned in a double breasted herringbone suit. A thumb-thick cigar protruded from his buck toothed snout. Thick, pillowy, bright electric-blue smoke puffed from the tip and snaked from bright pink rat nostrils.
“Marc Caleb Havak,” the large rodent said in a commanding, I’m-the-motherfucker-in-charge voice. “I thought you’d be bigger.”
“I get that a lot,” I responded on pure instinct. My voice was even keeled and calm. Not aggressive. Not subservient. Some part of me must have known that Artie and I were in a very precarious position.
The rat laughed and looked at Shere Khan and gestured with the cigar that he had clasped in his long, talon tipped fur covered fingers.
“Kid’s got balls, eh, Ad’dao?” he asked the tiger before he turned back to look at Artemis and me. “I see why the people like him so much. My name is Mr. Irrus.”
Irrus’ shrewd pale yellow eyes turned their attention to Artemis and took her in like a thing to own. I looked at her for a moment and saw that her skin practically crawled under his gaze. I began to think that this had been a very bad idea.
“Nice arm candy, Marc,” he said to me while he still stared at Artemis. “I’ve always believed that powerful men should always surround themselves with beautiful things,” he said as he grinned at my lover. “Are you a powerful man, Marc? Or just lucky?”
“My uncle always said luck was my best feature,” I said in the same calm tone. A whiff of the junkyard dog was back though. I needed to keep him on a short leash. I glanced at Shere Khan aka Ad’dao. I could practically feel his muscles as they vibrated under his suit. This was a pit fight I wouldn’t win.
“Lucky enough to defeat my most prized champion.” Irrus said. His voice sharp and very pointed. “He had a stupid name, but I was depending on the Dark King for a lot.”
“Oh, he was your dude?” I asked as I feigned ignorance.
“Yes,” the rat-gangster said. “He was indeed.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” I said. “Nothing personal. You know how the Crucible of Carnage can be. Hate the game, not the player.”
“Hate the game, not the player?” He repeated in response as he turned to Ad’dao again then broke out into laughter. The sound made me want to puke. “Oh, I like that. Is that an Earth saying?”
“Yup.”
“I like it,” he said as his laughter died as suddenly as it had begun. “But I always hate the player, and it’s always personal. Always.”
I should have laughed out loud at the sheer ridiculousness of being threatened by a talking fucking rodent but I didn’t. In fact my mouth was very dry, and my heart hammered in my chest. From the corner of my eye, I could see beads of sweat run down the side of Artemis’ face and neck. We made brief peripheral eye contact and a cold finger of fear traced a trail down my spine. Artemis was as scared as I was. Facing bad guys in battle was different from this pressure cooker of pleasantries. All I could do was keep moving forward. Slow and steady.
“The Crucible is a cruel mistress, Mr. Irrus,” I said in a measured tone that balanced on the fulcrum of arrogant and reverent.
“True, true,” Irrus came back. “Trust me, kid, I’ve been at this for some time. I had to scrape and scrabble my way to the top of the heap where you see me now. I’m sure you can tell that I am a rat of influence. A seat holder on the Council of Nine No Ones, thanks in no small part to the departed Dark King, I might add. Someone who has the audacity to hire his greatest predator as his own private muscle and sleeps like a pinkie suckling on its mamma’s nipples.”
“Yes, my colleague and I were in fact talking about the influence one needs to operate under the nose of the Atheron Ozusti for as long as one such as yourself.” I hoped the flattery would buy us some time or turn the course of the conversation. I was definitely feeling a concrete shoes vibe coming up. “It must take considerable will.”
“Humpf,” Irrus snorted. “The Atheron’s know what is good for business.
And the Nine No Ones have been good for business for hundreds of years. We keep this planet alive. Sharp. Where it needs to be to support their precious tournament. Otherwise it would all be chaos. You’ve seen what chaos looks like up close and personal, Marc.”
“Yes, I have,” I answered. “Not pretty.”
“Right!” Irrus shouted suddenly. Artemis and I couldn’t help but jump a little at his sudden outburst. “Not fucking pretty. Haha. I just decided I like you, Havak. I like you a whole goddamn fucking a lot. Right, Ad’deo?
“Yes, sir,” the tiger purred with a smile that conveyed menace. “I’d like to make you an offer, Marc Havak,” Irrus began while he put his cigar out on the ashtray in front of him. “I’d like you to become my new favored champion. With my help, you could easily sweep the competition. I have money and resources beyond what anyone else could ever offer you. With your victory, you would bring back riches and technology to your primitive planet Earth, and I would maintain my seat on the council. It’s a win-win, Havak.”
With his offer, the tension left the room in a rush. A flood of copper tinged saliva filled my mouth, and I realized I’d been biting the side of my mouth. Artemis sighed. Even Ad’dao seemed to ratchet his muscles down a few notches.
I thought about his offer. I knew Grizz said that forming alliances with good mob bosses would be a smart strategy, but this pestilence was far from good. I was actually pretty sure he was a stone cold psychotic. And, I didn’t like the way he looked at Artemis.
“My champions are treated very very nicely,” Irrus said as he stood up on his tiny, recursive, rat feet. “For starters, you could have a new woman every night, and they would all look just like this one. Hell, I’ll get you even better looking ones.”
“Excuse me?” I growled. The Junkyard dog did not l
ike being startled from sleep and yanked hard on his chain.
“Ohh, I can see the fire that everyone talks about,” Irrus chuckled and buttoned his suit jacket as he made his way to the door. “I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice, Havak. See, you owe me for killing my old champion. That’s how this world works. Quid pro quo, or some shit like that. I say dance, and you make like a good little puppet and dance.”
I stood and motioned for Artemis to take my hand.
“I only dance with the lady, Mickey,” I said with zero calm. Cautious, rational Marc had just flown the coop. It was time for us to leave.
“It’s cute that you think that,” Irrus chuckled as the doors opened in front of him. “You’ll come around to my way of thinking. You ever watch a cat play with a mouse, Havak? They swat it about, toy with it, maybe rip a limb or two off, and then just leave it to die because they don’t always kill for food but often kill just for fun. Your companion there reminds me of a little mouse I once knew. Maybe I’ll tell you about her next time I see you, Havak. Have a good night.”
And with that the rat turned and walked through the door, his long, glistening, pink tail trailed behind him like a taunt. The cougars closed the doors behind him, but not before they stepped into the room.
I looked around the room and counted six frisky felonious felines and two severely outnumbered homo sapiens. Artemis looked at me with a genuine fear in her eyes. I squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
“You kittens look a bit aggravated,” I said in my most annoying smartass voice. “Maybe you guys are thinking to yourselves ‘holy shit, our boss essentially just told us to assault Marc Havak’s companion, and that’s the guy who killed a bonafide Chaos being from the inside.’”
As I talked, I slowly moved Artemis and I back until we touched the desk. Ad’dao had shifted his position so that he stood with his cat compatriots; the cougar couple, leopard twins, and Panthro.
Cats, other than lionesses, are solitary hunters used to being on their own, and to that purpose they are very well suited. Sharp teeth, razor claws, lightning reflexes. “Or maybe ya’ll are thinking ‘shit, do I really wanted to get skinned by a human, turned into a jacket, and worn by Marc’s girlfriend when they go out clubbing?’”